No Man's Fault
by Michelle LaChance
Summary: [ g 1 ] Wheeljack and Ratchet stand in the aftermath of a battle gone horribly wrong. [ Wheeljack & Ratchet ]


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**warning;**

Mentioned character death, lots of it. Slightly out of character behavior. AU.

**summary; **

Wheeljack and Ratchet stand in the aftermath of a battle gone horribly wrong.

**author's note;**

When I was looking through my flash drive again, searching for fics that could have been liked, I came across this little piece. I read it and filed it away, on the verge of deleting it. Why? Because it had been my attempt at something sad and depressive, and I didn't think that anyone in his or her right mind would like it. As days passed, I kept thinking about it and frankly, I felt the need to post it. So I dug it back out and slapped together a name and this author's note. Review, because I really need to know if this is any good. If it isn't, then I need to know how to improve. Thanks!

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The glow of flames lit the dark night with ease. The ground was lined with the remains of smoldering buildings and gigantic metallic corpses as far as the eye could see. Two figures stood in the middle of the disaster, scanning over the ruins of a battlefield on a distant planet from their own. One a medic, who wore a very sad smile, and the other an inventor turned warrior, whose mask hid the emotions that bubbled up and threatened to boil over.

The medical officer reached out and took the hand of his friend, lacing their fingers together and giving the limb a reassuring squeeze. He could feel the inventor's dismay and bitterness at the sight, instantly becoming concerned for the mech. The weak grip on his own hand did not cease his anxiety for the situation and his friend.

The silence between them, which had been lingering for hours, was broken when the inventor's intakes hiccupped with a muffled sob. It had surprised the medic, as Ratchet had never heard such a noise from Wheeljack in their entire friendship. Even when Cybertron fell, there was sadness but it was never vocalized. Not like this anyway.

"I thought it was supposed to feel good when one of my inventions worked," he said so suddenly, so brokenly, that it startled the medic. Wheeljack didn't seem to notice his friend's surprise, or concern, as he deactivated his optics and lowered his head. He vented air through his systems, choking a few times, but seemingly ignoring it. "I never imagined that it would. I didn't even get a chance to test it. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Ratchet didn't know what to say. He had always known that Wheeljack often created things, just to keep busy and occupied. Most times, they exploded, and the medic sometimes wondered if Wheeljack made them explode to keep others from thinking about war and killing their friends. It was rare when an invention left his laboratory, but today had been a different day.

The Decepticons, as usual, attacked out of nowhere and they were in a hurry. The enemy had been surprisingly violent, more so than normal at least, and their leader had ordered Wheeljack and Ratchet to bring an invention that he'd been working. Ratchet, despite noticing how odd his friend was behaving at the mere mention of the invention, talked him into it and they arrived with. Now, the medic understood just why the inventor had been nervous.

It was untested. It was a weapon of mass destruction. It wasn't supposed to see the light of day or even work.

"I'm no better than the Decepticons," the inventor nearly wailed, shoulders trembling. It had been startling for the medic; the sound of his voice, the words he spoke. But he didn't get a chance to say that, or anything for that matter, because Wheeljack pulled away from him. "How could this happen? How could I have let this happen? I am at fault. I could have stopped it…!"

"No, Wheeljack," Ratchet replied. He stepped over a corpse to move closer to his friend, who had ended up further in the remains of the city. "There is no way you could have known, or even stood against Optimus to prevent this. Do not blame yourself for something that was out of your control."

"But I knew, Ratchet. I knew it was a dangerous idea, let alone what it could do if created," he responded, hands trembling at his sides. His blue optics stared at the medic; sadness and bitter regret swimming in the glowing orbs. "Look at what I did. Look at what I caused." He paused, just long enough to gesture weakly to the ruins around them, "Decepticons and Autobots alike lay deactivated out there. A city gone, lost to a war they had no apart of. Human deaths. Primus, it is all my fault!"

Ratchet's entire frame tensed, "Wheeljack," he whispered as he tried to calm his friend. "Please, there will always be casualties in wars, especially one as old as this one."

"No," he snapped, uncharacteristically, "no. Spike, Sparkplug—they were in there! They're dead too! Bumblebee, Cliffjumper… Primus, who knows who else! All dead!"

Ratchet couldn't do it. He couldn't find the words to comfort his friend, or even find a way to comfort himself. So long they had been at war, fighting brothers and friends, and he could very well console young soldiers in his medbay. Tell them that they would be okay, that their efforts and sins were for a good cause. Yet on this day, standing in the wreckage of a city on a distant planet, he could not do the same for a friend he had held dear to his spark for so long.

If it were possible, Ratchet would have wept. Wept for the lost sparks on this day, for the end of the war, for his friends and even the one that stood next to him. But Cybertronians could not. So he stood next to the trembling inventor in utter silence, letting him mourn for a mistake that was not his fault.


End file.
